


Heart to heart

by saltedshotgun



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Relationship Discussions, defenestration mention, discussions of potentially sensitive topics, people giving Roy a lot of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedshotgun/pseuds/saltedshotgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five conversations Roy Mustang had on the topic of Edward Elric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart to heart

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you goes out to my lovely betas, [VioVayo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VioVayo/pseuds/VioVayo) and tumblr user [rocksoundc](http://rocksoundc.tumblr.com/). Thank you so very much! Without you, this story would have been a heap of crap.

Hawkeye is the first to know. She always is the first to know when things concern Roy, because no one - excluding Hughes, of course, but Hughes is... 

Well. No one _alive_ knows Roy better than Riza Hawkeye. 

She slams her hand down on Roy's table and Roy actually startles; he jerks back so hard his chair squeaks under him, fumbles with the pen in his hand for a second, then looks up to find the Captain glaring at him like a goddess of vengeance. He knows he's in trouble now, because no amount of unfinished paperwork, no matter how early he left work yesterday - nothing ever makes Hawkeye look like _this_. 

"Captain, what - " he starts with indignance, and she cuts him off. 

"You're sleeping with Edward," she says accusingly, and there it is - while everyone thinks he and Edward are still like they've always been, happily fighting and irritating the living hell out of each other - Breda and Havoc still have a bet going on who will kill the other first, or will they just kill each other? - Riza Hawkeye just knows, and isn't afraid to drop the truth like a bomb on Roy. 

Roy clears his throat, tries to gather some kind of composure again. "They don't call you Eye of the Hawk for nothing, Captain," he says, and Riza - in an uncharacteristic display of violence - slams her hand onto Roy's work desk again. It rattles under the blow; so does Roy. 

"Are you stupid?" she says, eyes steady and cold and absolutely terrifying; it's not the first time Riza has chewed him out, gods know she has more reasons and rights to do so than anyone else, but this might be the very first time she is this furious - not just quietly disappointed, not just ticked off, but actually, properly wrathful. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? Do you even know what you're doing?" 

Roy - stares at her and blinks. "Um," he says. 

"Of course you don't," Hawkeye replies, voice flat and freezing. "I could pull the gun on you now," she adds. "I _should_ pull the gun on you, I have _every right_ to pull the gun on you. The only thing that's stopping me, the _only thing_ , is that I know that this is new. Because, Sir, if you'd been doing this back then..." 

She leaves the rest of the sentence hanging in the air, swinging like a noose. 

"Please tell me," she grits through her teeth, "that this is new." 

"You have seen me do things far worse than this, Captain," Roy says, and watches her jaw clench visibly, her eyes narrow, the fingers splayed wide on his desk curl into a tight fist. 

"Not since I promised you, and myself, that I would prevent them from happening," she says coldly. "Please tell me you were not fucking your underage subordinate, _Sir_." 

No one - not even Ed, incidentally - has ever made the title sound as condescending as Hawkeye has in that moment.

Roy laughs bitterly, covers his eyes with his hand. "I think it says something about my character that I'm more shocked at you saying 'fuck' than I am at the thought of fucking my teenaged, male subordinate." He breathes in and out deeply before he looks up again, meets Hawkeye's eyes again. 

She looks sick. She looks at him wide-eyed, face pale and slack with shock. Her hand slides off Roy's table to hang limply by her side, her fingers twitching like they're aching for something to hold - something that could potentially end his life, Roy assumes. 

He sighs. "Stand down, Captain," he says quietly, tiredly. "It's new." 

Hawkeye's eyes close, her shoulders slump. She blindly reaches for a chair Roy keeps close to his desk, pulls it in and sits down on the opposite side of Roy's table, looking at him. "I think it says something about _my_ character," she says shakily, "that I can live with that."

"No, it just means I've finally managed to corrupt you," Roy says, attempts to joke, but the glare Hawkeye aims his way is entirely unamused.

"Yes," she says. "You have." 

They're silent for a long while, Roy with his forehead resting on his open palm, breathing in and out deeply, Hawkeye looking somewhere past his shoulder at nothing, deep in thought. 

 

Alphonse is the second to know, obviously - what Hawkeye is to Roy, Alphonse is to Edward. 

Roy didn't expect Ed to be able to keep this from his brother for long. He's not sure he expected Ed to even _try_. Roy knew this, and knew Alphonse's visit was inevitable... But still, as he watches the younger Elric walk through the door and exchange an important look with Captain Hawkeye, he briefly considers just throwing himself out of the window to save them their combined effort. 

"Hello, Alphonse," he says, pleasantly enough. "What brings you here today?" 

"General," Alphonse replies with a smile and closes the door to Roy's inner office behind himself slowly, slowly, quietly. "Oh, you know. Just you fucking my brother." 

Roy nearly chokes on his own saliva. Alphonse smiles.

Dear gods, Alphonse Elric has come to kill him. 

"I appreciate everyone's direct approach to the topic," Roy says, more to himself than to Alphonse, his voice sounding strangled. 

"I'll be frank, General - I don't like it," Alphonse continues mercilessly, though his smile has dimmed a bit - surprisingly, he doesn't look quite as homicidal with a frown. 

Roy isn't entirely sure if that's a good or a bad sign. 

Alphonse pulls out the chair Captain Hawkeye sat on only mere days ago, while they had the exact same conversation, sits down in front of Roy, and crosses his arms. "I'd hoped my brother would find someone who would be good for him, serious about him - " Roy's eyes narrow. Something flickers in Alphonse's eyes for a short moment, then he happily continues. " - and to be honest with you, General, I don't think that's you." 

"It's funny," Roy says flatly, "I never realized how low your opinion of me has been."

"I don't have a low opinion of you, General," Alphonse says. "I just think you're bad for my brother." 

Roy understands this. Roy thinks he's bad for Edward, too, just as he thinks that Edward is bad for him; they shouldn't work, they fight more often than not, they fight when they don't have to, they're rash and harsh and rude with each other, often both in words and in actions. They're like a bomb ready to blow, and perhaps that's exactly why Roy - always so in control of everything, always so calm and collected - finds the whole thing so intoxicating. 

He and Ed shouldn't be good for each other, but somehow they are. Somehow, their wheels grind and squeal, but they click together. Roy's not ready to give it up yet. 

How to explain it to someone who, despite being close to them, is still an outsider?

Roy steeples his fingers together and looks at Alphonse, unafraid. "Your brother is fully capable of making his own decisions regarding his lifestyle, don't you think, Alphonse?" 

Alphonse frowns, but it's not in anger - it's in contemplation. "The thing is," he says slowly, not really looking at Roy, "Brother often chooses the path that is exactly the most difficult, and I really, really think life has been difficult enough for him already." 

And now, Roy finally realizes the real reason for Alphonse's visit - not to threaten Roy, not to mock him and offend him... Just simple, pure concern for the one most important person in Alphonse's life.

The helpless look Alphonse gives him is proof enough of that - he doesn't look at Roy like the sole perpetrator of his trouble, he looks to him for help, in a long lasting Elric tradition. "Brother has suffered and suffered and suffered some more, he's had to give up _everything_ for my gain, and - I don't understand, why can't he just do things the easy way for once?" It's apparent, the frustration Alphonse feels, the way his hands clench where they're resting against his sides. "Why can't he just settle down?" 

"You know he tried," Roy reminds Al gently, because they're all aware of Ed's past with Winry Rockbell, everyone who knows them even a little knows that they tried so hard to make it work, but... Roy thinks it's the exact opposite of him and Edward - despite everything, their differences, their tempers, their history of tension, once Edward and Winry finally clicked, they ran so smoothly that they eventually just... Stopped spinning. 

"I know," Al says miserably. 

Roy doesn't know how to console him. It's true that Edward's given up so much - while Al is flesh and blood and whole, Edward is alchemy-less and with automail still, bereft of the promise of a stable life everyone expected him to fall into. Roy also knows, perhaps better than anyone, that _that_ was hardest on Ed - the falling apart with Winry, the disappointment everyone felt for them. Roy was there when Ed came back to Central, flopped onto his couch, all fake smiles and reassurances; he was there when Ed fell into his bed, desperate and hurting, clinging to Roy like he was in physical pain. 

Edward is fine with the loss of alchemy, he's fine with having automail, but the feeling of failure after his relationship with Winry ended, that was what nearly destroyed him. 

"Alphonse," Roy starts with a sigh, "could you imagine, after everything you and your brother have been through, to just _stop_? Settle down in the country, find a wife, have a family?" 

"Well, yes," Al says, voice tinged with confusion. 

"And yet, you're still travelling. You're still searching for knowledge, you're still growing as a person - and so is Edward. Neither of you seem like the kind of people who'd grow content with your life peaking at fifteen." 

"But it would be good for Ed," Al says. "The whole thing, the country, having a family. I don't understand - he's had a home, and unlike me, he's had someone to have a family with. I thought that was what he wanted. Why isn't it enough?" 

_Beats me,_ Roy thinks sordidly, but bites his tongue. Instead, he says, "Perhaps it would have been good for him. Perhaps that's what he wants - but it's not what he needs." Roy leans back against his chair, not breaking eye contact with Alphonse, still as a statue across the table. _It's someone like me that Ed needs. It's_ me _that Ed wants,_ Roy thinks, and realizes that he finds pride in that statement. _As long as he wants me, I'm not letting him go._ "Ed doesn't have the best record when it comes to making right decisions, but you of all people should know that he always, always comes out on top. You should trust him more, Alphonse. He saved the world, and I, for one, don't doubt that he's more than capable to figure out how to save himself." 

Alphonse - stares at him, wide-eyed, for a moment; then, his mouth begins to curl into a smile. The armor had been intimidating, towering over Roy, but it can't hold a candle to the expression forming on Alphonse's face now.

Roy backtracks rapidly, internally goes over what he said, and does his damned best not to blush in front of a man fifteen years his junior. 

"General," Alphonse says and stands up, still smiling in that way that makes him look like he reached some sort of ground-breaking decision. Roy finds it utterly terrifying. "I think you're right." 

Roy almost lets out a breath of relief. He opens his mouth to say, _You've always been the reasonable Elric, after all -_

"But," Alphonse continues, "if you hurt Brother, I'll make sure they won't ever find your body." A smile, dazzling and lovely and full of teeth. "Have a nice afternoon." 

And with that, he's gone out the door. 

 

Roy has a fairly extensive list of people he doesn't want to see in his office. Currently, the top spot is occupied by General Hakuro and his closest minions, devilish creatures from hell that they are. Roy sometimes thinks that Hakuro doesn't have anything better to do than to mess with him, and then he smirks, because - of course, of _course_ there's nothing that would be more important to Hakuro than complicating Roy's life, since Roy is the only General really breathing down Hakuro's neck. 

Ironically enough, if only Hakuro did his job instead of wasting his time trying to stop Roy from doing his, Roy's job would be that much harder. And Roy always liked a challenge. 

He's sitting behind his work desk, pen and paper forgotten in front of him in favor of daydreaming about stomping Hakuro into the ground, when there's a knock on the door. Roy's eyes snap up, the door opens and - a blond head peeks in. For a second, Roy's terrified that it's Hawkeye, and scrambles for his pen, but - 

Never before had Roy realized quite how extensive the list of people he doesn't _expect_ to see in his office was, until Winry Rockbell steps inside and hefts the large toolbox higher onto her shoulder with a polite smile. "Hello, General Mustang," she says. "Am I interrupting?" 

Roy - calms his heartbeat, thanks to whichever god may be listening that it's not the gun-toting Captain, and leans back in his chair. "Miss Rockbell, what a pleasant surprise," he says, gives her his most dazzling smile. She, much like Edward and, lately, also Alphonse, looks entirely too unimpressed with him. "You are not interrupting at all. What can I do for you?" 

She taps the rectangular metal toolbox - Roy wonders for a moment how heavy that thing must be, wonders if she came here to brain him with it - and says, "I'm looking for Ed, but you know how he is. I was wondering if maybe..." And her smile falls, her eyes tick around nervously like she expects Edward to jump out from under Roy's desk, buck naked and shouting, _Surprise Winry, we're fucking right now!_

The visit goes very sour very fast. Roy clears his throat, and Winry looks back to him and goes scarlet. "He's not here," Roy says, not impatiently. "I'm not entirely certain where he is right now. He rarely tells me about his plans." 

"Oh," Winry says weakly. "I thought - Al said that you - " 

And Roy really doesn't have the time or the patience to deal with young adults and their messy, messy emotions. "Miss Rockbell," he says, keeping his voice level and calm, a soft smile on his face. "If there's something you want to ask, just go ahead and do so, please," he says, as kindly as he is able.

Winry bursts into tears. Not very loudly or theatrically, but her breath leaves her as if Roy punched her, violently and suddenly.

They stare at each other for a moment and then Roy shoots out of his chair, nearly vaults over his desk trying to get across it quickly. He pulls a chair out for Winry to sit on, reaches for her and stops himself just short of touching her. "Please, sit," he says instead and motions to the chair, and Winry collapses into it, dropping the toolbox onto the floor with a rattle. 

"Sorry," she says, gulping for air. "Sorry. Damn it!" She swipes at her eyes angrily, scowls at the top of Roy's desk. "I promised Ed I wouldn't do that." 

Roy is confused to say the least. "Excuse me?" he says. He's _so_ out of his depth. Dates he can do. Wining and dining and seducing women into his bed isn't outside of the realm of his skills.

Crying former partners of his current lover? 

It would be an understatement to say that Roy is absolutely perplexed. 

"I'm sorry, General," Winry says, still wiping at her eyes. "I promised Ed that I wouldn't cry because of him or Al anymore." Her voice thins out at the end of the sentence, and Roy has a box of tissues in one of his drawers, he's sure. He rummages through them, and - ah, there it is - discreetly wipes the dust off the top of the box and hands it over. "Thank you," Winry says and blows her nose, still not looking at Roy. "I'm really sorry, General," she says quietly. 

"No need to apologize," Roy replies, trying to keep a straight face and not show how confused he really is. "Do you want me to call Captain Hawkeye?"

A shake of her head. "Thank you, but... It's not really the Captain I wanted to speak to, anyway," she admits after a short pause. Eyes, red-rimmed and tearful, flickering to Roy. "I suppose I just... Can't believe it, that's all." 

Before he can stop himself, Roy blurts out, "That makes two of us," and it just shows how off his game he is; it's ridiculous that he can face high ranking military officers, representatives of neighboring countries, important civilian personnel, but this tiny woman, barely out of her teens, is stunning Roy into honesty. Outrageous. (Roy watches Winry and thinks, _She looks so young,_ and then, _She's as old as Ed,_ and once more considers just defenestrating himself.) 

"Um," Winry says. 

Roy sighs, leans back in his chair, and says, "I am well aware what the relationship between Edward and I looks like from the outside." 

Winry blinks at him, a tissue crumpled in her closed fist, and opens her mouth, then closes it again. "That's not what I meant at all," she says. "I don't think you're - being bad to him, or anything," she says and blushes and shifts on her chair in discomfort. 

Roy presses his lips together and thinks, _Oh, for gods' sake._

"I just - " Winry pauses and rolls her eyes skywards, blows out a breath. "I don't understand what you can give him that I couldn't."

Which is - the awkward, rude way in which it was phrased aside - a very good question. Roy swallows, and tries to find a good answer, but... The truth is, Roy doesn't know. He's thought about it himself, multiple times, over the past few months; whenever Edward knocked on his door or Roy found him asleep on the couch already inside, whenever they fought or fucked. He looks at Winry then and says, truthfully, "I don't know." 

Winry deflates visibly, her shoulders slumping, her head hung forward, eyes hidden from Roy's view by her bangs. 

"I'd rather not think that I'm your replacement, however," he says, and keeps his eyes on Winry as her head snaps up again, and she looks at him wide-eyed and surprised. 

"I didn't mean to say you were - " she starts, and Roy holds up his hand. 

"I know you didn't," he says, closes his eyes, and thinks about how Winry is practically a stranger to him, and what he's about to share with her is one of Roy's more shameful thoughts. "But I did," he says with his eyes still closed. The smile that crosses his face feels bitter and sardonic - what a stupid, self-indulgent thought. If Ed truly wanted to replace Winry Rockbell, wouldn't Roy be the last candidate for it? What could he even have in common with this young, innocent woman - except the man in question? And yet, still, Roy can't help but think that all he is is a rebound fuck. 

Winry sniffs. "Ed wouldn't," she says. "He doesn't - he doesn't treat people like that. He doesn't even think about people like that." With a small, frustrated laugh, she says, "He's dense but he's not - he doesn't do that." 

"I know that, too," Roy says. And after a beat of silence, he says, "It's a moot point, anyway." With a sigh, he slumps in his chair, too, letting his head fall back, eyes fall closed. "If I know anything about Edward, it's that he's only ever going to do what he wants to do. I could perhaps try and talk to him - " 

"No," Winry cuts in. 

" - but in the end, it's his choice to make." 

He opens his eyes slowly to find Winry watching him with her face blank. "Are you sure?" she asks slowly. 

Roy grinds his teeth. _No,_ he thinks. "Yes," he says. He forces the word past his tongue, because he doesn't _want_ to, he doesn't want to hand Edward back to Winry, out of his grasp forever, but... He would. He knows as well as Winry does that she would be better for Ed in the long run. "But I must warn you - Edward rarely ever takes kindly to my suggestions." 

Winry stares at Roy. She takes a breath, opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it again without a word. Her eyebrows pinch. "No," she says after a while. Her eyes are still red, her voice a bit thick, but she doesn't look nearly as miserable now as she did at the beginning of their conversation. "No, I don't think you should. I think you're right. It's Ed's decision to make." A small, pained smile - it wobbles on her face, and Roy feels her reluctance deep in his own bones; they're both unwilling to give Ed up to the other. "I just have to trust him that he knows what's best for him," she says. 

Roy wishes he could believe it's him. 

 

Hawkeye gives Roy a pointed look as she leaves the office. It's dark outside already, and despite the open windows, the soupy summer air is still hot and oppressive. "Don't stay in too late, Sir," she says, and Roy looks up to blink at her. 

"Who are you, and what have you done with the Captain?" he asks. 

"Very funny," Hawkeye replies. "The Emperor and his company arrive tomorrow, and it would be advisable that you are rested and at your best for it." 

Roy sighs, drops his pen and massages his temples with his fingers. "I'm beginning to hate the Xingese embassy with a burning passion," he says sardonically. 

"Please, don't say stupid things," Hawkeye says. "You never know who's listening. Good night, Sir." 

Roy waves her off, watches her leave and close the doors behind her quietly, and leans back in his chair, letting out a long, deep, exhausted sigh. This will be good for Roy in the long run - he clings to the thought nearly desperately. If Roy manages to pull this off, and the Emperor's excursion goes without a hitch, it could advance his career so rapidly that the mere thought renders him dizzy. 

He sighs again, straightens his back, stretches his arms above his head and opens his eyes - 

\- To find Ling Yao sitting in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and smiling pleasantly. 

Roy attributes the fact that he doesn't burn him on the spot to his exhaustion; thank gods, because one dead Emperor is perhaps too much to deal with, even for Roy Mustang.

He lowers his arms and folds them on his desk, and clears his throat. "Emperor Yao," he says, mildly impressed with how calm his voice sounds, even though his heart is fluttering in chest like a caged bird. "What a pleasant surprise."

The Emperor looks mildly impressed with Roy's composure as well. "General Mustang," he says and bows his head slightly in greeting.

Roy looks him up and down, and notes that Ling looks hardly any different now than he did when they first met; his face is a bit older, his form obviously more muscled, and his clothing is different now, though still obviously eastern - but, if Roy expected him to wear silk robes and complicated jewellery, he's sorely disappointed. "We saw your window was open and the lights were still on, and thought it would be rude not to come say hello." 

Ah, so that's how they got in - Roy assumes the other person is the Emperor's guard, and he wonders where she's hiding. The back of his neck itches, and he can practically feel someone else's eyes on him. He manages not to look around, but only so-so. 

"Strange," Roy says. "I thought your arrival wasn't scheduled until tomorrow." 

The Emperor laughs. "Ah, yes. Keeping to schedules has never been my strongest suit. And besides," he gives Roy a small smile, for the first time an honest one, "there are many friends in Amestris I wanted to visit. I'm afraid official business doesn't leave much room for pleasantries." 

_Many friends,_ Roy thinks sordidly. Edward and Alphonse, he assumes. Perhaps even Winry. Resembool is only a small detour on the long trip from Xing, after all, and had Roy been in top shape instead of stressed out and stretched thin by the Xingese embassy's many ridiculous requests, he would have realized that the Emperor would do his utmost best to visit. 

But why would he come from Resembool to here, straight to the headquarters and into Roy's office, Roy can't say.

"Imagine my surprise," the Emperor continues, successfully pulling Roy from his thoughts (Roy really _is_ tired; he didn't realize just how much until now, faced with a situation he's unprepared and absolutely mentally unequipped to deal with), "when I arrived in Resembool to find only Alphonse and Winry there." And he gives Roy a sharp look. "They had some very interesting things to say about Edward and you." 

Absolutely, utterly, completely unequipped to deal with this situation. "Ah," Roy says.

"They are very worried about Edward," the Emperor says. "As am I, you understand." 

"Edward is perfectly fine," Roy says, "and in regular communication with his brother and Miss Rockbell, as far as I know." 

"Still, you can not blame us for being worried." The Emperor frowns thoughtfully. "Edward has a talent for getting in trouble." 

"And no one knows this better than I do," Roy adds. 

The Emperor hums. "He is a very dear friend to me," he says. "After everything we have been through, I want him to find some peace and happiness. Can you give him that, General Mustang?" 

And Roy would really, really like it if people stopped asking him that question. "Would it be enough if I promised you that I will try?" he asks. 

"No," the Emperor replies without missing a beat. "You see, I know better than anyone the sacrifices one must make if one wishes to lead a country."

Roy freezes at those words, and forms his face into the blankest mask he can manage at this very moment. 

Ling holds up a hand. "Especially when it comes to one's personal life. I think that my worries are entirely justified," he continues. "You may fool Alphonse and Miss Rockbell, but I know the bitter truth. Between the Führership and Edward, which would you choose?" 

Roy frowns, looking at Ling coldly; the air stiffens between them, the tension nearly palpable, all traces of friendly conversation gone. "I don't know what you're talking about," Roy says. 

"Please," Ling says, eyes never once leaving Roy's. "Don't treat me like I am an idiot." 

Roy needs to have a word with Edward - or perhaps maybe the Resembool resident duo - because there is no way Ling Yao is supposed to know so much about Roy's goals and aspirations. Roy's tired, exhausted mind goes into overdrive - should he deny it? Is the Emperor of Xing his ally or enemy? 

In the end, Roy decides not to address the topic at all; instead he crosses his arms on his chest. "I didn't know those were mutually exclusive." 

With a shrug, Ling says, "In my case, they were. Please, humor me, General. Which one?"

Roy grits his teeth. "My goals," he says slowly, "are more important."

Ling sighs; Roy can't tell whether it's in relief or disappointment, and it infuriates him even further. "You and I are very much alike," Ling says quietly, with his eyes closed and head hung back, the words probably not meant for Roy at all. 

Roy gives him a hard look, but before he can calculate how impolite it would be to deny it, Ling opens his eyes to look at him. 

"Thank you for your honesty. Does _Edward_ know you feel this way?" 

"Edward knows as well as you and I do what it's like to have a goal that takes precedence before anything else," Roy replies. "Do not coddle him. He's no stranger to difficult decisions." 

"Perhaps not," Ling says. "All the more reasons for us to do our best to protect him from making any more, do you not think?" 

Roy smiles, the expression feeling sordid and twisted on his face. "That is something we can both agree on." 

Ling watches Roy thoughtfully for a long, quiet second - then he pats his thighs and stands swiftly. Roy struggles to follow him. "Well, it has been enough pleasantries for one evening - something we can agree on as well, yes?" 

"You must forgive me," Roy says, gesturing to his messy desk. "Your visit's been so surprising I forgot to even offer you tea." 

"That is quite alright," Ling says, "I don't very much like your Amestrian bastardized version of _tea_ anyway. You look tired, General, perhaps you should listen to your Captain and go home." 

Roy blinks. 

"Thank you for the conversation." And with that, the Emperor bows and then extends his hand - Roy reaches out to grasp it, and they both squeeze so hard Roy could swear he can hear bones creaking. "I am very much looking forward to our official meeting tomorrow." He turns to leave, and says, "Lan Fan." 

His guard slips in through the open window immediately, and had Roy not been expecting it, he really would have gotten a heart attack; the woman is tiny - barely any taller than Ed used to be as a child - but clad in all black, with the steel blade extending from her elbow, she doesn't need to be tall to look terrifying. 

"Good evening," Roy says dryly. 

"General," Ling calls from the doorway before Lan Fan can reply, and Roy turns to him. "Edward is my friend, and, by extension, a friend of Xing. Should you ever intentionally hurt him…" He trails off, and the silence that follows is so potent it makes Roy's hairs stand on end. Eventually, Ling smiles. "Never mind." And with that he's gone through the door. 

Lan Fan follows after the Emperor, but before she slips out of the room, she turns to Roy and bows.

 

"Ed, huh?" 

Roy looks up from his book at Maes Hughes sitting on the far end of Roy's couch, looking at Roy amusedly over the top rim of his glasses, the stupid grin Roy so loved to loathe plastered on his face. 

"Ed, huh?" Maes repeats. 

Roy looks back down at his book, flips the page. "Yes," he says simply, like it's the end of the conversation. 

"Good for you, Roy, good for you," Maes continues appraisingly, a little mischievously. Roy wonders for a moment, is he being mocked? "Not quite what I had in mind when I advised you to find a wife, though." 

"He would not like to hear his name mentioned in the same sentence as my name and the word 'wife'." 

"How disastrous is a relationship with your former underaged, male subordinate going to be for your career?" Maes asks, still in that same, light-hearted tone, as if he's not voicing one of Roy's current, deep fears. "How can you live with yourself, fucking a child that's dependent on you, Roy? For crying out loud, he's only a kid!" 

The temperature drops, and Roy looks up to - see a different Maes Hughes, deathly pale, the chest of his uniform covered in dried blood, eyes stone cold and spiteful. 

"He was like a son to me, and you ruined him. You ruined him, and you keep ruining him - do you want to see a photo of Ed and Elicia?" the vengeful, dead Maes Hughes of Roy's nightmares says to him. 

He sticks a picture right into Roy's face, creased and dirty with old blood, of Edward as an eleven year old, freshly drafted into the military, dark circles under his eyes that look so, so painfully out of place on such a young, round face... Elicia stands next to him, nearly an eight year old now, finally growing out of her pigtails, and she and Ed don't look that much different, for fuck's sake - 

"He was a child and you did this to him, _you_ did this, I should have shot you when I had the chance - " 

Roy's eyes flip to Hawkeye standing in the corner, eyes shadowed and hair cropped short, arms tight around herself, obviously touching the scarred, charred skin on her back. She watches Roy levelly and reaches for her gun, aims it at him, and - 

 

The door bangs shut in the hallway and Roy jerks awake, comes up like a drowning man fighting for air. He gasps, trembles on the couch in the cold Edward has been obviously letting in through the hallway. He swallows, swallows again, feels lightheaded and closes his eyes, clamps his palm tight over them. 

"General," Ed calls through the house, and then his footsteps - so familiarly uneven, Roy could tell that it's Ed even if he hadn't called out to him by the cadence of his step on Roy's tile alone - echo through the house. 

Roy lies back down on the couch, tries not to pant, and waits. 

Ed's amused voice closer now, "General Mustang, Sir, civilian Elric reporting for duty - hey." And then, more concerned, footsteps a bit quicker coming towards Roy. "Hey, Roy. Hey!"

Roy doesn't open his eyes until Ed's hand rests on his forehead; he's blissfully warm, fingers calloused but gentle on Roy's skin, carding through his fringe. Roy sighs, catches Ed by the wrist and opens his eyes. The room is dark, lit only by the light coming from the hallway, and Ed's hair shines like a halo around his head. It's not the same deep, rich gold it used to be when Ed was a teenager; it's bleached by the sun now that Ed's older and travelling past the borders of Amestris, but it suits Edward all the same. Roy can't see his eyes, unfortunately, but he can feel them on him, undoubtedly worried. 

"Roy," Ed says, voice soft. "You okay? Are you ill?" 

Roy swallows, mentally compares the picture of Ed from his dream with the reality standing in front of him, and somehow he gets calmer. Ed is not a child, Ed is not dependent on him - Ed is Ed, like he's always been, stubbornly unchanged by the tragedies of his life, and if losing his mother, his brother's body, his limbs, or his home couldn't ruin him, then how could Roy even presume he has the power to -

"Earth to Mustang," Ed snaps. "This is weird, I talked to Hawkeye before I came over, she didn't mention anything about you being sick." 

Roy releases a deep sigh and pulls himself into a sitting position, reaches around Ed, holding him tight and burying his face in Ed's stomach. "Dead man came to haunt me," he croaks out, and breathes in Ed's scent. 

"Oh," Ed says, awkwardly petting Roy's head like he would a dog's. "Bad dream, huh? Wanna talk about it?" 

Roy sighs, shakes his head. "It's nothing you haven’t heard before." 

Ed hums and, finally, his fingers brush into Roy's hair, tugging just a tiny amount, yet enough for Roy to shudder all over. He sighs, closes his eyes like a contented cat and - Ed pinches a tuft of hair at the top of Roy's head and pulls hard. 

" _Ow,_ Edward - what the hell did you do that for?"

Ed pulls on his hair again. "You're fine," he says. "You're doing good things, and you're fine. Quit moping already." 

Roy pinches the soft skin underneath Ed's ribs in retaliation. "You brat," he says as Ed gasps out something between a curse and a laugh, but before he can squirm away, before they can fall into their established routine of snark and bickering, Roy catches Ed's wrist. He pulls him in, pulls him down until Ed's on his knees in front of Roy, eye to eye with him. 

"Mustang, what - " 

"Sometimes," Roy starts quietly, and something about the quiet, dark room makes this so real, so intimate, so unfamiliar to their dynamic. Roy swallows, and forces the words past his throat. He doesn't think he'll get another opportunity like this to say them. "Sometimes, I feel like we're doing something horrible." 

"We're not," Ed replies, calm and resolved, without hesitation, like he's never been more certain about anything. 

Roy smiles at this, at least. "Listen to me, please. Ever since we started seeing each other,"he says softly, and Ed squirms, tries to pull his wrists away from Roy's grip like a caged animal. Roy smiles, drops his eyes to where their skins touch, to his fingers circling Ed's. "I've had so many people come to me and explain exactly why what we're doing is a terrible, horrible idea." 

"Who?" Ed asks. 

"A lot of people. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that, Ed, they're not wrong." 

Silence. Slowly, Ed pulls his hands from Roy's hold. "Are you breaking this off, then?" he asks evenly, voice cold and flat. 

"No," Roy replies truthfully; he's man enough to admit to himself that he couldn't let Ed go at this point, even if he tried. He doesn't think he could go back to an Ed-less life anymore, all work and no play, no snark over morning coffee, no blond hair in the corners of his rooms, no automail foot chipping his bathroom tiles and Ed's panicked voice calling, _Shit, fuck, Roy, can you come fix your floor again?_ Roy doesn't know if it's still true that Ed needs him, doesn't know if it's ever been true in the first place, but somehow it happened that Roy needs _Ed_. "As long as you'll have me, I'm not letting you go. But, Ed - I really could be tragical for you." 

His eyes flick up to Ed nervously, kneeling in front of him with his hands splayed wide on his thighs and his eyes - tired, unamused. "Like how, Mustang?" 

"I'm a dirty old man," Roy says, "for starters. And I took advantage of you when you were too young, when you were hurt and vulnerable, and I twisted you whichever way to further my own goals throughout most of your military career." 

"I know that," Ed says quietly, voice low. 

"I'm - difficult, Ed, a difficult man to be with, and - and quite frankly, so are you. We frustrate each other, we rub each other the wrong way, and now, we know each other - I know you enough to really hurt you now, and Ed, _Ed,_ I know myself enough to know I would if I - well. Let's say I've always been good at crossing certain kinds of lines." 

Ed's voice is rough. "Well." 

Like a masochist, Roy continues. "I'm afraid I won't ever be able to give you what you need, or what you want, and most importantly," he says, "I know I won't ever be able to give you all you deserve. Not even a fraction of it. Everything you've fought for, your family, _a_ family - you'll never have it with me. This," he says and points to the empty, dark living room, "is all I'll ever be." 

Ed is quiet. Roy can't see his face well, but he's not standing up, running, or hitting Roy in the nose yet, so Roy continues. 

"And, Edward, the most unfair, selfish thing is that you can't - and you _won't_ \- ever be my priority." It comes out of Roy's throat like glass, thin and painful. "I have goals that are bigger than me, bigger than you - my life is no longer mine to live. I gave that up in Ishval, and if this should ever become an obstacle, I wouldn't hesitate to cut you off, Ed." And quietly, heavily, temples aching, Roy breathes in deeply and closes his eyes. "Perhaps, this is the most important thing you should know."

Silence falls. Roy keeps his eyes closed, swallows past the tightness in his throat. Breathing is hard. Opening his eyes seems impossible. Roy doesn't think that, if Ed leaves now, he could ever get up off this couch again. Then, movement; rustling of clothes, the mechanical whirring of automail, nearly impossible to make out unless it moves right past your bowed head.

Ed's footsteps move away from him and, for a second, Roy actually considers _begging_ Edward. _Please, don't leave me here. Despite everything that I am, please reconsider,_ he thinks, and then, _This is how pathetic I became. This is what you made of me._ Instead, he keeps his head low, breathes evenly in and out, like he's been taught in training. 

How to deal with pain, step one - even breathing. 

His head snaps up when Ed stops on the other side of the room, and starts tinkering with the glasses on Roy's very humble personal bar. He squints against the dim light and watches Ed pour a glass, and then another, with his mouth hanging open. He watches him as he turns and walks back to Roy, kneels in front of him, and hands him a glass. 

"Drink, idiot," Ed says impatiently, and watches Roy as he takes a sip. They look at each other for a long while, and then Ed sighs, and sits down onto Roy's carpet, collapses down like supporting his own weight is too much of a hassle. "I'm not a kid," he says. 

"I know," Roy says. 

"I haven't been a kid for a long time." 

Roy nods. "Because I drafted you into the military." 

"Because I played God, crippled myself, and almost _killed_ my brother," Ed replies bitterly. "I wasn't a kid when you drafted me into the military, you dipshit, don't you remember? The only reason I'm sitting here today, and I'm not going to pretend for a second that it's not true, is _because_ you drafted me into the military."

Ed shakes his head, frowning, glaring at his glass of bourbon. "We're both assholes, and we drive each other crazy, but - we're still here, aren't we? I'm here, and you're here, you're not kicking me out - why's that gotta be so bad? It works well enough for me, and - I tried the whole idyllic thing, a house, white picket fence, apple pie cooling on the window... I've done it for long enough to know that _that_ doesn't do it for me. If i wanted to be there, I would be there." 

"Edward," Roy says, "you're older now, more experienced. Perhaps - " 

"Don't you dare," Ed cuts in, voice like venom. "Don't you ever try to presume what I want. Do you think I could go back to that, after what I've _done_? You don't have a monopoly on doing horrible shit. I'm damaged goods, too. We're the same in this, you and I." 

"We're really not," Roy says. "We're really, really not." 

"Well, no. No, you're right. You know what the difference is? I've already had the chance to make up for my mistakes. I already reached my goal. And you saw me through it, Mustang, and now it's time to return the favor." 

Roy blinks, then blinks again. "What?" He regrets not turning on the lights in the room prior to this - he'd give anything to see Ed's face right now, always so easy to read; it's always harder with the tone of his voice alone, often loud and harsh, even if his actions speak differently. 

"I'm not gonna get in your way, Roy," Ed says. "You want to be Führer, I get that, and you're gonna do big things. I know I could be a hindrance, but... I won't." And then, voice a little strained, "Captain Hawkeye would kill me." 

"The Captain would - " 

"Kill me," Ed says flatly. "She bitched me out so bad when she found out, you wouldn't believe it. It was terrifying." 

"She can be that," Roy says weakly after a moment hesitation, because - what? Hawkeye had - threatened Edward? What _for_? Roy thought he'd been the one who - 

"Al did, too, actually. And Winry. _And_ Ling. It was all very - " Ed clears his throat, " - informative. It kind of opened my eyes to a lot of things." 

Roy stares at him in the dark, and Ed looks right back from where he's sitting on the floor, legs splayed wide, leaning back against his hands. Roy can't be sure, but... He thinks Ed's smiling.

"My point is," Ed continues, and starts picking himself up off the ground, "that you're not the only one being stupid. You're not a threat to me - at least not any more than I am a threat to you." He stands in front of Roy and holds out a hand. "We're in this together, right?" 

Roy is absolutely dumbfounded by this man standing in front of him; one would think he'd grow used to it, but - there are certain types of shock you just can't familiarize with, Roy supposes. "Well," he says after a long moment, "when you put it like that..." He reaches out for Ed and lets him pull him off the couch, to his feet. 

Ed will never be tall, but in all honesty, neither is Roy. And standing like this, foot to foot, chest to chest, they finally see eye-to-eye.


End file.
